I am the Witch King
by l0rdn1hilus
Summary: The story of the Witch King, from his inception, to his freedom. [ONESHOT!]


**I am the Witch-King.**

**A/N: SHORT Oneshot! The Witch-King's thoughts, from his fall to his rise, then, to his release.**

"_I am the Witch-King"_

But I was not always the Black captain; I was not always the Dark Sentinel of the tower of Barad-Dur.

I had a life once.

I had a wife who loved me, a child I could raise...my successor.

I was a leader of the great and wondrous realm of Numenor, where the pyres of our capital burned ever bright, a gleaming spire, ever watchful over the darkness.

Until the day...He came.

Sauron gave me and my fellow lords nine rings of power, blinded by greed and lust, we accepted.

There was never anything I feared, especially these rings, for I was a general in the great army of Numenor, at least, used to be, if whatever remained of the Numenoreans after Ar-Pharazon destroyed our people can be called an "army".

The faithful, those who did not follow Ar-Pharazon, built the realms of Arnor and Gondor, under the leadership of Elendil, while I dwelt in middle-earth, under a veil of secrecy, black as night.

If I could be there, to watch our legacy be reborn, I would have gladly traded all my power, all my authority, just to be free for a single day...to watch the strength and glory of Numenor be reborn, to rise, from the fire and shadow of tragedy into the light.

The pain is sharper than any blade, it burns hotter than any fire...

I try to cry, but all that come out of my hood is a miserable wisp of blackened breath, misting in the air.

"_I am the Witch-King."_

I was responsible for the fall of the realm of Arnor, and the capturing of Fornost.

I slew my fellow soldiers in cold blood, the ultimate dishonor.

As I sat on the throne of Fornost, the ultimate seat of power in Arnor, I could not help but look over everything I had helped destroy.

The great citadel, burning, ravaged by orcs, a shell of what it was.

The dark magicks at my command ravage the ground at my feet, where healthy trees should stand, are mere shells of their former selves, where grass as green as the emerald jewels of Arnor should stand, lie twisting, barbed vines.

I raise my head to the heavens, and curse the name of Sauron.

But all that comes out is a scream that shatters the night, and strikes fear into the hearts of my army.

"_I am the Witch-King."_

It has been many years, and now, after the battle of the last alliance, I once again have risen to lead the black riders.

Sauron calls to us for a mission, and I must answer.

He tells us to find his ring, and I have tracked it to the Shire, in the Lands of Eriador, to the Halfling Frodo Baggins.

I cornered him at Weathertop, along his journey.

There, I ran him through with my Morgul Blade, but, I did not finish him.

As the will of the lidless eye prods me on, I resist, I know that this Halfling is special, that he is destined to be the one to finish Sauron once and for all.

As his protector, the ranger known only as Aragorn drives us off, I willingly flee the battle, even though he is within my ability to slay.

Events have been set in motion, and I must aid them as best I can.

"_I am the Witch-King"_

It is the final battle, the battle of Pelennor, where the fate of the free peoples will be decided.

"Send forth all legions, do not stop the attck until the city is taken, slay them ALL." I echo, in my deep, baritone voice, as cold and as cruel as the depths of Minas Morgul.

The attack progressed as I foresaw, but the wizard had formed a united front at the gates of Minas Tirith, and was fleeing to the upper levels.

I snap the reins of my fellbeast, and he swoops down, meeting the Wizard.

"You cannot enter here!" bellows the wizard.

I take up his unspoken challenge, and we battle.

His will is strong, the white wizard, but he cannot deny the tides of evil I represent.

I break his staff, and flames run down my sword.

And yet, another unexpected turn of events, the Rohiriim have arrived.

I must deal with them, and quickly.

I at least grant them a quick death.

That is all I can do.

"_I am the Witch King."_

The Rohiriim have been routed, the Haradrim's Mumakil breaking their forward line.

Yet, they still pose a threat, so I find their leader, the one known as Theoden...

And eliminate him.

As my fellbeast stalks towards him, hungry, I sense its thoughts.

"Feast on his flesh." I command my winged steed.

But, what is this! A lone warrior steps forth to fight me.

"I will kill you if you touch him!" he bellows.

"Do not come between the Nazgul, and his prey!" I drawl, more menacingly than any threat.

My fellbeast attacks, but the warrior kills him with a single stroke.

Slowly, I regain my composure, and rise from the remains of my steed.

I brandish my mace, and smash the warrior's shield.

I wish to leave him, he has suffered enough, to have seen me slay his king in cold blood.

But the will of Sauron forces my hand forward, widening my grasp, clamping around his throat.

"Fool," I bellow, "No living man can kill me!"

"Die...NOW!" I whisper to his face.

But, as I am about to tighten my grip, I feel a pain burn through my thigh, and I drop to the ground.

The Halfling has injured me! Another turn of events.

The warrior raises his sword and helm, but I know he cannot slay me, no living man can.

"I am no man!" she whispers to me, taking off her battle helm.

She is a woman!

She runs her sword through my hood, and I feel the bonds of the ring of power slowly lift.

The eye rushes toward me, intent on binding me to this realm.

But the light of the Valar shines upon me now, and I go to the halls of Mandos, where all my kindred go.

My soul coalesces, gathering within my black cloak.

The energy of the swirling magicks crumples my helm inwards, and my cloak rushes in to fill the void.

The energies explode outwards, and , with it, my soul.

And, to the warrior who saved me, I whisper a word of thanks.

"_I am the Witch-King"_

And I am finally free.

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R&R plz?

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End file.
